Just One Thing After Another
by Chalcedony Rivers
Summary: Three short oneshots, based on the songs sung by Posner in the film "The History Boys", featuring three couples: Anna/Georg, Henrst and Moritz/Ilse.
1. Le Pianiste

Anna stood on the corner of the street, waiting for the four o clock bell to strike up its chime. She looked very pretty in her short cotton summer dress and stockings, a look she'd adapted from Wendla, who she liked to think she honoured by wearing garments that the adults all deemed inappropriate. She didn't care. Wendla wouldn't have cared, so neither would she. Now her friend was gone, she had tried to take it upon herself to try and be a little more like the gentle, carefree spirit that had so abruptly left them. Anna sighed, leaning against the corner of number 28. When four came, it was time to leave. She would be patient, though. She would wait. She could wait as long as it took.

Soon enough, though, she heard the faint peal of bells in the distance from the church. She smiled secretively to herself, placed one shoe in front of her, and took a small step, almost like a small ballet movement. Then she began to walk. Her feet took her down the street where she'd been waiting. And then, slowly, softly, another sound joined that of the fading toll. This sound was harsher, more lively, and the notes leapt two and fro, fading and then rising again in a harmonious clamour. It was the sound of a piano playing.

There was a window open at number 14, and this was where Anna stopped. She could hear the song that was being played through the gap between glass and pane. It was a merry little ditty, and the person playing it was playing as if in a frenzy, feverish. She was not contented just to hear, and so she took one silent pace, just enough to be able to see through the gap in the window, but not enough that she couldn't escape if seen there. She saw it then. She saw fingers, long and dry but delicate enough as they contorted gently to press the right keys that would add that perfect note. It was the Java, she recognised it, and the music right went through her, touching underneath her skin, and she had to suppress a shudder as she gazed amorously at her love. He could caress her like he caressed the keys, she knew. They were his two greatest loves, he often said, her and his piano. They shared the same physicality.

She knew that she had to listen. They had precious little time left, her and him. He would be called up, soon enough, for this unholy war. And, of course, they had no need for musicians in battle. But when he came back, and of course he would come back, they would get a house, get married, just like he had promised her. And then he would take his piano and play it for her, and she would stand stretched, transfixed, her breath suspended because he would play it like he had never done before. Oh, for a life that beautiful, Anna would give anything. She took in a breath, and quietly began to hum along to the song. He'd once asked her to dance to it, but she wouldn't. To dance to it would to be to forget the player, and to let the music completely overpower her mind. No, it would be improper to dance. She'd explained this, and he had smiled, and continued his playing.

"Stop! Stop the music!"

The harsh cries of Fraulien Grossebulstenholter ground through the air, and abruptly the music ceased. Anna bit back a cry. How anyone could stop such a rhythm for one barely misplaced note was beyond her imagination.

"Please, Georg, go again. And do try to correct it, this time!"

The playing started again, and Anna peered round a little more to take in the sight. The teacher had her back turned to the window, so she could see him. He was playing with his whole body, she could see, the motion of his head and torso always in time with that of his beautiful, beautiful hands…

"Georg! You've missed it again! Excuse me a moment!"

The Fraulein turned, and left the room, and Anna shrank back for a second so as not to be seen, but then she darted up to the window and stuck her head through.

"Georg!" she whispered, and the boy turned his head towards the window. He was seated at the piano, a small bead of sweat sitting on his upper lip.

"Hello, Anna" he called back, and Anna smiled. He stood up, and made his way over to the window. He leant towards her, and stole a single, small kiss.

"That was beautiful" she said, and a small smile graced his lips.

"Thank you, my darling. She's right, though, I need to practise that part"

"I thought it was flawless"

Georg laughed a little, but then his features turned hard and sad.

"Georg? What's wrong?"

"Anna…" he muttered, not meeting her concerned gaze. He took her hand through the gap, and held it tightly. "I've been called up"

"Oh…" she breathed. "Well, we'll survive, won't we? It's not the end of the world"

"That's just it, though. What if I don't come back? What will you do?"

Anna thought for a moment, and then smiled.

"I will wait for you. And then I shall find another pianist, and I shall ask him to play me the Java. And then I will dance for him, and hope it helps me forget"

Georg laughed, and reached up to stroke her cheek.

"I wrote a song for you" he said. "Do you want to hear it?"

She nodded, and he took his seat at the instrument again. And then he began to play.


	2. Bewitched, Bothered And Bewildered

Hanschen was a fool, Ernst thought, not to notice the looks he gained during his classes. Ernst didn't think he hid the fond gazes particularly well. Still, Hanschen was a charming fool; otherwise there would be no reason to look at him. It was a little pathetic, granted, when Ernst couldn't sleep because every time he closed his eyes he saw that face smiling down at him, not allowing him to even consider dropping off, but what was he to do? Under that gaze he was like a child again. He was completely bewitched, but it bothered him to be so, and then every time his classmate acknowledged his presence he stumbled and tripped, completely bewildered. He'd lost his heart to someone so cold, someone who didn't even know he existed. And if Hanschen did know, he probably laughed about it. Oh well. Ernst would be glad even to rate somewhere in his mind, even if it was just as the butt of a rather cruel joke.

"Ernst? Ernst?"

Ernst turned around to see the very face he'd been dreading looking down at him. He swallowed as the cold blue eyes stared into him, seeming to penetrate his very soul.

"Are you quite alright?" the whisper mocked. "You seem very distracted"

Ernst bit his lip. This was most peculiar. Hanschen had never given him a second glance, and certainly not in such close proximity.

"I am quite fine, Hanschen, th-thank you for asking" he blurted as quickly as possible, anything to keep the blood from rushing to his cheeks. Hanschen smirked, and leaned away, focusing his attention back on their teacher. Ernst gasped in a gulp of air. This was not good. He needed to at least learn to control his emotions. He was acting like one of the girls did when they saw Melchior. Dear Lord, he was acting like Thea. He knew what all the boys thought of Thea. He'd gone with them down to the river once, with the rest of his class, and all of them found it hilariously funny when Melchior purposely walked by her, to see her blush and stammer. He'd laughed along with them, of course, but he felt bad for her, really. She was so young, so naïve. A little like him, to be honest.

Well, it was his mistake, wasn't it? He'd fallen for Hellish temptation hook, line and sinker. He knew his feelings were wrong, and he had tried to repress them, before realising it was hopeless. He was in love with Hanschen Rilow, and nothing could be done about it any more, not now he'd sunk too deep.

"Ernst?"

"Yes?"

"I wish to meet with you at the vineyard later, at six. Shall you be available?"

"Y-Yes. Yes, of course"

Ernst inwardly cursed himself. If only he didn't sound like such a stammering idiot!

"Good. Now, look sharp, Herr Sonnenstich is coming your way"

Ernst felt Hanschen's presence move away from him, and he felt his cheeks burn. It was silly, really. Hanschen probably only wanted to meet with him to talk, to discuss schoolwork, like last time they'd walked together. Still, he wasn't being ignored anymore, and that was a start. After all, only good could come out of this, couldn't it?

Maybe, if nothing else, he would stop feeling so bewitched, bothered and bewildered all the time.


	3. Bye, Bye, Blackbird

Moritz Stiefel woke up to the pretty little trill of a blackbird, singing outside his window. He rubbed his eyes, still coated in sleep, and reached up a hand to touch his untameable mane of hair. He sat up, and yawned. From his bed, he could see the bird, and hear every note of its unmistakeable, melancholy song. It was slightly odd. He'd heard somewhere that blackbirds only stayed in winter, but it was deep into spring now. He'd probably misheard the information anyway, or remembered it incorrectly. He seemed incapable of doing anything else with everything he was told.

He lifted his hand from under the bedcovers, and swept it down to feel under his bed. His fingers came into contact with cold, furious metal, and he outright shivered. He would replace that gun in his father's desk later on. He had no need of it anymore.

"_Ilse! Ilse!"_

_A sigh. A scuffle amongst foliage. "Yes, Moritz?"_

"_Oh, Ilse. I didn't think you would come back"_

"_What is it, Moritz?"_

"_Tomorrow" he said, and he slid the gun into his pocket once more. "Might I come to yours tomorrow, still? If you'll have me"_

"_I'm heading back to Priapia tomorrow"_

"_Oh…"_

"_Will you come with me, Moritz?"_

_The question was innocent, childlike almost, but Moritz breathed in a sharp gasp. The whole wood seemed to hold its breath, waiting._

"_Moritz…?"_

"_May I, Ilse? Will you let me?"_

"_Of course I will, Moritz" She giggled. "Can we play together again?"_

"_Just like we used to" he promised._

"_I'll meet you here tomorrow, at eight. Don't leave me waiting, Moritz Steifel"_

"_I won't…" he breathed. He felt her cold lips brush against his cheek, and then she laughed and darted off into the woods, like a broken Fay in her shirt and smudged make-up. He stood there, astonished. Then he smiled, and began the walk home._

There would be no more need for Virgil, no equations, and no more essays to compose. The sun would shine in Priapia, reflected off the bright red of her hair. He would go to school, and say his farewells to Melchi, and then he would come home and pack his world into a suitcase, and all his cares and woe with it. Nobody in this village knew him properly, not even Melchior, not really. And his luck just kept getting worse. Well, here was a way out, and he was going to take it, whatever the costs. He hoped Ilse would have a bed ready for him when he got there. She would wait for him, and she would love him, with her kisses that were sweeter than sugar.

Moritz rose from his bed, and padded over to his mirror. Yes, tonight he would be on his way. There was nothing for him here. Here, he was fading. It seemed fate had played him a good hand for once, for this was certainly his lucky day.

Outside, the blackbird stopped singing, and took off from its perch, and Moritz watched it go with a small smile.


End file.
